


By Its Cover

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: All-American Rejects
Genre: F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Sexswap, Transphobia, WIP Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this in 2008, but ran out of steam on it and never managed to pick it back up. *shakes fist at muses* It's left off in a cruel place, sorry, but there is <em>nothing more</em> I can squeeze out of my brain. :/</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Its Cover

**Author's Note:**

> characters (and narrative in character voice) express transphobic views (having a vagina = being female, UGH NO) because they're in-character and NOT because this author endorses those horrible views

He had no idea who had done it. All he knew was someone had put something in his beer, and after a night of worshipping at the porcelain altar he had finally fallen asleep and when he’d woken up that afternoon, he no longer had a dick.

Chris had had to stop him from killing every person who’d been at the party, because “One of them _stole my fucking penis_ ,” Tyson growled.

“I know. We’ll _find the fucker_ ,” Chris reminded him, grunting. “We have to get you to a doctor first.”

The doctor was very nice. She examined Tyson gently, and didn’t freak out. She just rubbed the bridge of her nose and said, “We’ll have to take some blood, do some tests. This … is incredibly unusual, Mr Ritter. You’re definitely no longer male.”

“Hey,” Tyson muttered, arms crossed under his breasts, “I’m still a dude. I just … don’t have the parts right now.” He shuffled in his seat. His jeans didn’t quite fit right.

“Come on,” Nick said, putting an arm around Tyson when he emerged back into the waiting room. “We’re going shopping.”

“I have to call Kim,” Tyson mumbled, feeling weird. The thing with the people he was dating was, they liked dudes. Nick wasn’t treating him any different, not really, but Tyson felt completely aware of exactly how Nick was standing, watching closely for any sign of distancing himself.

“Call her in the car,” he said, trailing his fingertips lightning-quick down Tyson’s arm, touching them briefly to his palm before stepping away, leading. Tyson followed him and Chris back outside.

He sat alone in the back seat, turning his cell phone over in his hands while Nick and Chris debated where to shop from the front seats. Screen showing his contacts, Tyson scrolled to Kim’s number and hit the call button.

“Hey you,” she picked up after two rings. Her voice was full of warmth. Tyson missed her so fucking much.

“Hey,” he said, and he suddenly noticed how _feminine_ his voice sounded.

“You okay? You sound sick or something, did you strain your voice?” She was instantly in Fussy Hen Mode, and like always, it made Tyson want to hug her. He curled his hand around the phone.

“No, I uh. I don’t know what happened, I just saw the doctor. The bloodwork might show something, but —”

“Ty, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Now she sounded worried.

“I’m — I guess I’m okay. Freaking out, maybe, but. Kim, I’m uh, I’m a girl.”

There was silence. “Um. Pardon me?”

“I think my beer was spiked last night, I woke up today with boobs. I have _boobs_ , Kim.”

“Oh.” More silence. “This isn’t a joke, right?”

“Does it sound like a fucking joke?” He noticed Nick glancing at him in the rearview mirror, and lowered his voice. “Kim, I have breasts. I don’t have a dick. I don’t know what the fuck whoever it was _did to me_ but I’m a fucking _chick_.”

“You still carrying on with the tour?” Kim asked. It did at least sound like she believed him.

“Shit, I don’t know. I guess? We haven’t talked about it. The boys are taking me shopping.”

“Just let me know if you’re still coming tomorrow, I’ll get some things ready.”

Voice small, he just said, “I love you.”

“Love you too. You okay?”

He shrugged. “It’s weird. Isn’t this weird? We’re, like, lesbians now.”

“I guess.” She was pausing. It was a thinking kind of pause, and Tyson fiddled with the hem of his shirt while he waited for her to speak again. “You’re still, I mean. You’re still _you_. I don’t know, Ty, I haven’t — we’ll talk tomorrow, okay? You still coming?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, voice _full_ , “I’m not going to leave you because you got breasts.”

Tyson swallowed, eyes on the back of the seat in front of him. “Good. It’s only temporary, anyway.”

She paused. “Nick isn’t going to leave you either, dumbass.”

“It’s really creepy when you do that,” Tyson reminded her.

“I _knew_ that’s what you were thinking!”

“Yeah, hence the creepy.” He picked at his jeans. “And. Thanks.”

“What I’m here for. I’ll see you tomorrow. Give my love to the boys.”

After hanging up, Tyson didn’t say anything for the rest of the journey. He looked out of the window, letting Nick and Chris’s conversation drift over him when it got started back up. They found the mall ten minutes later, and Nick parked in one of the few spots left in the lot. He turned around in the front seat and he wasn’t looking at Tyson any differently from normal as he said, “Ready for Forever 21?”

Tyson kicked the back of his seat. “Asshole. Take me to Wet Seal if you want to sight-see. Then take me to Old Navy for some _actual clothes_.”

The mall was fucking huge and, thankfully, didn’t have a Forever 21. Nick did threaten to drag him into Claire’s, but Tyson stood his ground. He rolled his eyes when Nick grinned and yanked him over to Hot Topic, but then Nick spotted a Def Leppard vinyl album and his eyes went round and Tyson forgot he had temporarily lost his penis, forgot he was supposed to be shopping for clothes that fit, forgot _everything_ but that gleam of light in Nick’s eyes.

“You want it?” he asked, soft. Nick turned to him and nodded, eyes still a little wide, clutching the album sleeve. Tyson had an insanely strong urge to nuzzle their noses together, or kiss his cheek, or something, and before he knew what was happening, he’d leaned forward and kissed the corner of Nick’s mouth lightly. “You’re so cute when you’re excited,” he breathed, heart knocking against his chest.

Nick’s cheek twitched, and Tyson felt it too, that split-second panic, but then he remembered — he was a girl. If they got recognised … _he_ wouldn’t be recognised, at least. Nick swallowed, and closed the distance to brush a quick kiss against Tyson’s lips. It was momentary, and it was also the first time Nick had touched him since the boobification.

“Aww,” said a voice behind them. Tyson turned and saw a girl a few feet away, looking at them, who blushed and smiled and turned away. Tyson’s mouth was dry. It took a few goes before he could swallow, and the three inches between the furthest-out part of his body and the nearest part of Nick’s felt like eight miles.

Nick took his hand, making Tyson jump slightly. They squeezed, simultaneously, and Nick didn’t let go until he had to dig his wallet out to pay for the album at the counter.

One trip to Starbucks and collecting Chris from where he’d disappeared (Bath & Body Works) later, they got distracted again by Spencer’s. Tyson found a Led Zeppelin belt buckle and declared, “If I get nothing else today, this trip will have been worth it.”

A grungey-looking dude nearby had been staring at him, and grinned wide when he heard Tyson. Neither Nick nor Chris noticed, but he was the seventh dude who had looked at Tyson like that since they’d got to the mall, and it was starting to creep him out.

“You’re getting other things today,” Nick told him. “Come on, let’s hit the Gap.”

It took them three stores, a rather humiliating bra-fitting and a pretty warm credit card, but Nick and Chris between them kitted him out with jeans and some nicely-cut shirts. Tyson fought them on getting a skirt (“No fucking _way_ , you’d have to tie me up first.”), and ducked into Abercrombie & Fitch, which had some really great button-downs on display. Nick eventually found him ensconced in the hats. Tyson was holding two in his hands, deliberating.

“Do you think if I wore this one,” he tipped the grey hat onto his head, “people would notice less that I’m a girl? Or is this one,” switching to the white, “better for hiding?”

In reply, Nick took him to Fuzziwig’s Candy Factory.

(“We have to. It’s _one letter different_.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t sell rubber chickens.”

“Shut up, you’re destroying my illusion.”)

Fresh cups of coffee in their hands after another Starbucks run, Tyson shifted the bags in his palm. It was starting to smart. “We done?”

“Yeah, I think we got everything.”

Tyson bumped his shoulder. “You’ve been waiting years for me to turn into a girl just so you can take me shopping, right?”

Nick snorted.

“Hey,” Chris said, quiet, on Tyson’s other side. His skin tingled as Chris brushed his arm, nodding slightly to the left.

Tyson looked. And stopped. And felt a grin spreading across his face for the first time all day.

There was a Victoria’s Secret.

“Oh, shit, I have to get some,” Tyson breathed in Chris’s direction, and Chris nodded emphatically, and Tyson figured, hey, there was at least one person he could still turn on.

In the store, Nick and Chris huddled slightly together, and Tyson wanted to huddle with them but a smiling sales assistant strolled up to him and said, “Can I help you, miss?”

The shock made him stammer. “I’m n— I’m — um. Thank you, but I think I’m just going to take a look around. See what catches my eye.” He tried for a dazzling smile, and she smiled back, so it must have worked.

“Just let me know if you need anything,” she beamed at him, flickering a slightly cold look at Nick and Chris. Tyson glanced over to check they weren’t doing anything worthy of the look, and they weren’t. They were just standing there. Maybe it was some secret thing, None With A Penis Shall Pass, Or At Least Not Without A Severe Look Or Two. He felt bad for them, and weird, like he’d been given some key to a secret door but nobody told him where it might lead or why his friends couldn’t come.

He escaped back to their corner of the store. Nick was looking with vague interest at the babydolls. “I think this one’s see-through,” he said, lifting the material and studying his fingers underneath. “Yep.”

“I think most of them are,” Chris said, in that oh-ye-of-such-naiveté voice he had sometimes.

“Ah,” was all Nick said.

Tyson was rapidly deflating. Somehow this store wasn’t nearly as much fun when you realised that if you wore the shit here, both your boyfriend _and_ your girlfriend would most likely find it a turn-off. Chris was eyeing some bras, and Tyson grabbed the nearest one in his size and took it to the counter.

“You don’t want anything else?” Chris asked him, following his steps, sounding surprised. “We could stay longer, look around if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” Tyson shrugged it off, but this was weird, he liked it better when he was buying this shit for Kim. The cashier shot Chris a fleeting glare before turning a bright smile to Tyson.

“We’ll wait outside,” Nick said, taking Chris’s arm. Tyson fumbled in his wallet.

“Are you okay?” the cashier asked. _Daisy_ , her name tag perkily read.

“Yeah, I’m — can’t get the damn thing out.” He pulled, breath huffing a little, awkward.

“Was that guy your boyfriend?” Daisy asked. The bills were _stuck_ or something —

“What? Oh. Chris, no, not Chris. Well, not — no, the other guy, he’s my boyfriend.” _Finally_ , the notes broke free. He handed over a fifty.

“He looks like that guy,” Daisy said as she rang it up. “That guitarist in the All-American Rejects. Nick, is it?”

Tyson grinned. “He gets that all the time.”

“He’s cute. You picked the right one.” Daisy glanced at the door, where Nick and Chris were waiting. She handed Tyson his change and the bag. “Have a nice day, miss.”

“You too,” Tyson returned, taking the bag and trying to shake the feeling that he’d just had a conversation that was different to the one Daisy had had.

“Everything alright?” Nick asked, watching Tyson’s face, as they made their way out of the mall.

“Yeah, just — that girl,” Tyson twisted around to glance over his shoulder, noticed three guys almost leering at him, and turned quickly back to Nick. “She was talking English, but I swear, it was like she was saying shit in another fucking language.”

“Girlspeak,” Chris nodded, wisely. “She assumed you were fluent.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.” Tyson didn’t say anything else until they’d dumped the bags in the back of the car and he’d claimed shotgun. Nick navigated the parking lot and got them back on the freeway.

“So Ty, first shopping trip as a girl, what’s the verdict?” Chris asked, leaning forward and grinning.

“I want my dick back,” Tyson answered.

When they got to the bus, Nick took the bags and Tyson inside while Chris drove the rental car back. Dumping all of the bags into one junk bunk, Nick called out, “Mike? You here?”

A small sound came from the back lounge. Tyson followed it, Nick on his heels.

“Fuck,” Nick muttered when they got there, dashing back out. Tyson just stood, Rhino fidgeting awkwardly next to him. Mike was lying on the couch, several bruises on his face looking dark and angry. Nick ducked back in and handed Travis a towel filled with fresh ice cubes. “What the fuck, Mikey?” he asked in a whisper.

Mike tried to smile. “Should have waited for Chris.”

“We found him though,” Rhino said, quiet. Tyson turned to face him, and Rhino continued, looking back at him, “The guy who drugged you.”

“What, and you didn’t let me pound him myself?” Tyson asked, stepping over legs and the usual mess. He sat up by Mike’s head and took a cold compress from Travis, covered Mike’s forehead with it.

“He was about to skip town, hell, the whole fucking state,” Rhino replied. He sounded tensed still.

“Yeah, and he got away,” Mike added, tilting his head to look up at Tyson; the movement made him wince and he settled back. Tyson tweaked his ear. “ _Ow_ , fucker.”

“That’s for being a jerk.” Tyson leaned down and kissed the corner of his eyebrow, just under the compress. “Thanks.”

“We’ll track him down,” Rhino promised. “The cops have a description.”

“And you know us,” Travis smiled at him, “we’ll have people over the whole country looking.”

Tyson felt warm. “Best crew ever,” he said, cracking a grin. “We still on schedule and shit?”

“Yeah, leaving tonight.”

“Good. Kim’s gonna be waiting.”

When Chris got back and saw Mike, he officially took over the nursing. “Careful,” Mike tried to grin, “I’ll make you wear the outfit.”

Chris grinned back. “I see nothing wrong with that.” He leaned down, body curled over like it was sometimes in workouts, and kissed him. Mike’s hand reached, up, cupping the back of Chris’s head. Tyson turned to go back to the bunks.

Nick was lying in Tyson’s bunk, sidekick screen lighting up his face. “Hey,” was his greeting, and he shifted over.

Tyson slid in and lay next to him. There wasn’t much room, and Tyson ended up hanging half out, so he shifted and tried out lying on his side, then curling into Nick’s, until Nick just pulled him to lie on top. Tyson sprawled.

“I’ve been trying to research,” Nick held his sidekick up, the screen showing a mobile Google page, “but all I’ve found so far is sex change operation stuff. Did you know they can’t construct a working penis? That has to suck.”

Tyson hit him in the chest. “Thanks, bitch. That’s really what I wanted to hear right now.”

“Shit, sorry.” Nick leaned up a little and nudged their noses together. “I keep forgetting. I mean, you’re just Ty, right? Nothing’s different.”

Tyson stared at him, which was difficult at this proximity. “Don’t go all Niles on my Daphne. Do I have to send Chris in there to explain why I’m not in the red dress?”

Nick laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. It was cute, and Tyson leaned down, pressing his mouth to Nick’s; Nick responded, smiling and kissing him at the same time. Tyson licked at the upturned corners of Nick’s mouth, feeling Nick’s hands run up and down his sides. He melted at the touch, pressed closer, brushed his fingertips over Nick’s favourite places. Nick groaned a little, starting to get hard, and Tyson moved his legs, one either side, and ground down. It felt fucking _good_.

Nick jerked away. “See,” Tyson said, heart sinking, “that’s what I mean.”

“You don’t have a dick.” Nick said it like he’d only just realised. He dipped a hand, tentative, under the waistband of Tyson’s jeans. Tyson bit his lip and arched a little into it. “Can I?” Nick breathed. He sounded completely unsure, but Tyson unzipped his jeans and yanked them down over his thighs.

Nick licked his lips nervously and splayed a hand just below Tyson’s stomach. Tyson pressed close. He was horny, and weirded out by how different it felt to be horny but not hard. It felt … more internal. Slick, like girls during sex. It was _so fucking weird_. The only thing that felt hard were his nipples.

He took Nick’s other hand and brushed it, under his shirt, against the swell of his breast. Nick jerked both hands away.

“Thought so,” Tyson surmised, and rolled out of the bunk. He pulled his jeans up.

“Ty, wait —”

“I’m going to shower.” He grabbed some clothes from the shopping bags, not looking back at Nick.

The water wasn’t particularly hot, but it was water, and the shower was pretty much the only privacy to be had on the bus. He hung a towel over the door; normally, the slightly-frosted perspex was enough, it wasn’t like everybody in the band hadn’t seen him naked a thousand times. But he felt weird being naked now. He looked down, and instead of a view straight to dicksville he saw boobs, wider hips, flat hairy nothing where his penis should be. He wondered if he should shave his legs. The thought depressed him, as though it were an assumption that he’d be staying like this for a while.

The AAR tattoo was stretched, now, rainbowed out over his breast. He had the strangest urge to cry.

Nick was still in his bunk when Tyson finished his shower, so he got dressed in the deserted front lounge and then rolled into Nick’s bunk. He was tired. Maybe he’d nap before dinner.

He must have dozed off, because he dreamed that some guy without a face was laughing, holding a bottle of pills, and Tyson was just rooted to the spot; hundreds of faces emerged out of the shadows, all men, all looking at him hungrily, and Tyson couldn’t run, there was nowhere to run _to_ , and then the guy with the pills stabbed him in the stomach with a long knife. Blood poured out, and then Tyson suddenly smelled something familiar and the ball of fear that had been collecting dissipated.

Clean, sharp, like apples and coffee. He felt surrounded by something, and tried to smile. He was safe. Knife and Pills Dude was gone, the hungry faces faded. “Ty,” Nick’s voice murmured, sounding far away. “Ty.”

Tyson woke up, Nick’s mouth on his neck. “Nicky,” he mumbled, bending one knee and slowly becoming aware of Nick’s body on top of him. He was buzzing, somewhere down low, and then —

He remembered, eyes flying open. Nick was lying between his legs now, and he was hard, and Tyson wanted to _squirm_.

“Nicky,” he moaned, arching up. “I thought you’d —”

“You’re still you,” Nick groaned into his neck. “I’m not doing a Niles, I swear, I see the girlbits. I know they’re there. I don’t _care_ , I still love you. Jackass,” he added, breath huffing.

“You’re a fucking idiot, this isn’t —” Tyson paused as Nick slipped a hand under his shirt and circled a nipple with his thumb; Tyson hissed in a breath and continued, “some feel-good movie, it’s —”

“Are you saying this doesn’t feel good?” Nick asked, voice a low growl as he rolled his hips. Tyson’s breath caught.

“I’m saying your sexuality hasn’t changed,” he exhaled, struggling to keep hold of thought processes.

Nick nipped at Tyson’s neck. “And _I’m_ saying I’m willing to work around that.” He kissed Tyson, hard, and ran a palm down his stomach. “It’s _you_ , Ty.”

“Sentimental jackass,” Tyson murmured, but by this point he thought his crotch was pretty much melting for want of Nick’s penis. Nick traced his hand over fabric, and Tyson groaned, “Fuck, if you’re going to fuck me, _fuck me_.”  



End file.
